


Not Another Migraine

by UnicornsInSpace



Category: Never Have I Ever (TV)
Genre: ASL, Aged-Up Character(s), But there is fluffy sweetness in their interactions, Devi has a migraine and Ben helps her, Established Relationship, F/M, Food, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Graphic depictions of migraine symptoms, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, Just rated M for the graphic migraine symptom depictions, Just wanted to be on the safe side for that, Medicine, No sexytimes in this, Pain, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:34:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27275020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnicornsInSpace/pseuds/UnicornsInSpace
Summary: Grown-up, lawyer Devi has a migraine. Ben, now her husband, takes care of her.
Relationships: Ben Gross/Devi Vishwakumar
Kudos: 49





	Not Another Migraine

**Author's Note:**

> Benvi friends, I did not forget about these losers! I have had this one on the back burner for a while, just trying to find a beta-reader. I finally asked one of my IRL friends and they agreed to do it. One day, I had a terrible migraine, and I decided to write a hurt/comfort sickfic about Devi and Ben once I was feeling better. This is a lot more intense than my other fics, but I wanted it to be accurate to my experience, and what I had heard from other people. I want to give chronically ill people more, good rep. Please mind the tags. Without further ado, here it is!

Devi wakes up to a small line of flashing lights blaring in the right side of her vision.

_ UGH, NO, _ She thinks,  _ NOT a MIGRAINE _ . She sits up and picks a package of her migraine medicine from the bedside table, pushing a pill out of the aluminum wrapping and pressing it under her tongue. She gets too nauseous when she has migraines, and cannot swallow any pain medication and have it stay down. It is still dark out, but she knows exactly where her migraine meds are without having to turn on the light, because she keeps them on the same spot.

She glances over at Ben. He is lying next to her, still sleeping, and blissfully unaware of the excruciating pain she was about to endure. They had gotten married two years ago, after both graduating law school and being accepted into law firms. It was a beautiful, Indian wedding, and his parents (unsurprisingly) could not make the time to come. Devi had told him not to worry about it. He had a new family now- one that would give him the love and attention he deserved. And they did! Nalini would make them dosas when they came over, and she would always grill them about their jobs and when they were going to have kids.

"Not yet, mom," Devi would always reply, "Next question,"

It was always nice to see Kamala and Prashant. They had two youngsters who were always full of energy, and always excited to see Ben. He would joke with them, laugh with them, play with them. They were always sad to see them go, and when Kamala and Devi were video calling on What'sApp, she would usually tell that her kids wanted to say "Hi," to her and Ben.

She always tried to make time for him, too. She knew he missed out on that stuff a lot growing up, so she tried to make up for it now. They would have movie nights and date nights, at least once a week, going to see a play or just lounging and watching Netflix. She would only cancel if she really had a true emergency, or if she had a migraine. Like she did now. Luckily, today is a Saturday, and she would not have to call out of work- or even worse- work through the migraine. Just thinking about it made her blood run cold. What a nightmare of an ordeal.

She lies back down and tries to sleep, occupying her mind with theories of her favorite trash TV shows, as the flashing grows and the pain starts to pound at the back of her head. It throbs and burns, like someone is pressing an iron to her head, as it moves lethargically across to sit behind her eyes. She feels like her head might explode from the pressure at the same time. Hours pass. The sun starts to peek through the windows, and she blindly grabs for her blindfold, gingerly pulling it over her head. Luckily, it is in the spot it should be. It would be difficult to find it otherwise, with the dizziness, the aura, and the fact the light makes her feel like her eyes are getting scorched deep into her brain.

After a little while, she gets up to try and use the bathroom. As she gets up from the bed, her stomach churns. The nausea was not the worst part, but definitely the most annoying. She felt like she was starved, but she also could not eat anything (besides maybe some rice or a few bites of toast), without her body rejecting it. As she shuffles to the bathroom, her hands in front of her to feel for the bathroom door. She has the unmistakable lurch that signals to her that her stomach is about to expel its contents.

She quickly grabs the door and all but drops on the floor. The toilet bowl is cold in her hand as she holds it, and she frantically tries to collect her hair in her other hand as her stomach and throat spasm out of her control. Coughs break up the vomiting, but it does not do much. When it finally stops, she gasps for breath, and hears a voice from the doorway.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” It is Ben.

“I’m having a migraine,” she says, her voice weak and hoarse. The sound is like a hammer to the head, but at least it is his voice. Something normally so lovely to her.

“Would you like a cup of water?”

“Yes,” she replies, and it is too much for her body, sending her into a fit of dry-heaving. Luckily, this one is over by the time he returns. 

He comes back and kneels down on the ground in front of her, passing her the glass by putting one of her hands on it. She rinses her mouth out with half of it, then gargles with the rest, spitting the excess in the toilet bowl. She knows she cannot quite drink any water yet, but the taste of stomach acid is revolting in itself. With her free hand, she makes the ASL sign for “thank you”, but she does not quite touch her chin. That would be painful. She does this because she knows that he knows the sign. They had done an ASL class the past year as a way for them to have fun and learn something new together. The teacher had been exhausted by their thirst for knowledge and affinity for competing with each other. They did not know any deaf/HOH people, but they thought it could come in handy. And it did.

He does the gesture back to say, “You’re welcome,” but then realizes she probably cannot see him well enough to make it out. He takes her free hand and presses the signs for U, R, and W-E-L-C-O-M-E into it.

She smiles wearily. He takes the glass from her, stands up, and places it on the bathroom counter. She tries to follow suit, but she wobbles and almost trips backwards. He puts an arm gently around her waist, steadying her, and guides her back to the bed.

After she climbs back in, he turns to leave, but she taps his arm. He turns to look at her, and she signs, “I love you.”

He takes her hand, and presses the sign into it, then rolls his hand up and  presses his forefinger and pinky around her wrist. She smiles again. It is a bleary-eyed smile, but it was as much as her pain-addled brain could produce. He kisses her hand and places it gingerly on the bed next to her. The last thing she hears is the bathroom door closing softly and the toilet flushing.

Devi sleeps for hours after that. When she wakes up, the pain is finally starting to subside, but she is still exhausted. She always is after a  migraine . She walks down the hall to see Ben at the kitchen table, fancy headphones in his ears, even though the TV was easily within his line of sight. The tangy smell of freshly cut ginger hangs in the air.

“Devi, you’re up!” He says, his eyes bright, moving his headphones to his shoulders. “How’re you feeling?”

“Mostly better, although my head's still tender. And I still have some nausea,”

“I cut up some fresh ginger for tea,” Ben says “And I made rice,”

“Thank you so much,” Devi says, “You’re not completely useless,” 

He chuckles.

“I try,” he says.

She plants a kiss on his forehead. (Her mouth probably smells disgusting right now, and she does  _ not _ want him to taste  _ that _ .)

“But seriously, though,” she says, “You are the best husband ever,”


End file.
